Lost Time
by Flashofblue
Summary: She knocks on the door until she can feel her knuckles start to bruise, but he isn't there. Apparently their timing could use some work. Season finale AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, so this is a somewhat AU version of the season finale. Basically, it picks up right before_** ***the_* scene, so everything happened the way it did in the episode, aside from the last...three minutes and forty seconds (I checked).  
Because I couldn't help but wonder… what if._

_For the wonderful AC, have a great birthday. :) _

* * *

**Lost Time**

* * *

He stands outside, watching as – a little down the road – Alexis gets in a cab with some of her friends. When the door slams shut and the car drives off, passing him, he raises his hand to wave, but the girl's attention seems to lay elsewhere.

And then she's gone, and he lowers his hand slowly, the corners of his mouth slightly turning down, too.

The whole thing gives him all kinds of mixed feelings, the realization that he has a grown-daughter who doesn't really need him anymore weighing the most, making his heart clench with nostalgia. He lets out a long sigh.

Then he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks to his side, sees his mother give him an understanding look.

"You're going to be okay, kiddo." She says, and he covers her hand with his, gives her a tight smile in response.

"I know, it's…" He pauses, tries to think the best way to express his thoughts, "It's just – "

She stops him with a squeeze of her hand on his arm, offers him a small smile of her own, her voice soft. "I know the feeling."

Their eyes lock. Hers are knowing, comprehending, and his chest feels tight with something he can't quite place. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again, and turns his gaze to where his daughter was just standing.

It's a rare moment, to share something like this with his mother, but he finds that he's actually grateful to have it – her.

It's brief, though, because soon, after another, soft, squeeze of his arm, she lowers her hand to straighten the skirt of her dress, then pushes up her hair with her other hand, and he can tell their moment is over.

"Well, I have my own party to attend." She announces with her usual flair, but if he didn't know any better he'd think that she was offering him an apologetic smile.

He quirks his eyebrow at that, half a genuine smile on his face now. "Don't have too much fun, mother." He says, his voice slightly teasing.

Her smile reaches her eyes, then, and she mumbles something under her breath that he can't quite catch, before she's off too, and he is left alone, standing on the sidewalk.

He thinks, contemplating his options for the evening.

The idea of a John Woo marathon doesn't appeal that much anymore, not now that it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth from – he stops himself, refrains from finishing his actual thought. No, he should do something. Something that doesn't involve him sitting at his loft, feeling sorry for himself.

Go to the Old Haunt, maybe?

Though, then again, the only difference from sitting at home would be that he would be drinking and feeling sorry for himself publicly. So, no, that is off the table, too.

He slides his hand into his pocket, feels the keys of his Ferrari burning at his fingertips.

Well, taking a drive could definitely help clear his mind. Once the idea enters his mind, he feels an overwhelming urge to take his car and go for a trip out of the city, just a little getaway , away from –

Gritting his teeth, he tries to steer his mind away from her, _again_. He really needs to get a hold of some of his thoughts.

He clutches the car keys in his hand, weighs them in his pocket.

Maybe – maybe he _can _take a long drive, find a hotel along the road to stay the night. If he drives back early tomorrow morning, he can be home again before Alexis comes home. He mulls it over, then reminds himself of his daughter's tendency to get back early.

He could leave a note, just in case.

The Ferrari is still in the parking garage anyway, so he'll just head to the loft, maybe go and pack an overnight bag, too, while he's there. Roadside hotels aren't exactly known for their high quality or great facilities.

Yes, he decides when he finally manages to hail a cab – when it started raining a bunch of them seemed to magically appear at the crowded sidewalk – this drive sounds really good right now.

* * *

She is soaked, the cold seeping through the layers of her clothes, but she hardly even notices. Her body is buzzing with adrenalin, determination and maybe – maybe a little fear, too, at what she is doing.

Because she is in_ his_ building, standing in front of his door, and she's _ready. _Ready for him. Ready to take the leap and dive in.

The idea that she might really be too late this time is what scares her, because she honestly doesn't know what she'll do if he'll turn her down. She can't drown herself in her job, can't use that coping mechanism anymore.

Though she really shouldn't get ahead of herself, shouldn't worry before she has a reason to. So she knocks, finally, and takes a breath as she lowers her shaky hand. She tries to hear any sound coming from behind the door over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Her heart sinks when it stays silent.

Maybe – maybe he didn't hear her? Yes, that could be it, she decides. He has a big loft, after all.

Her hand comes up and she knocks again, adding a bit more force to it this time. She waits. Hears nothing.

No. She clenches her jaw. This is _not_happening. He hasto be there.

Her knuckles rap onto the door harder then, hard and fast and she can feel the desperation building inside her with every knock. She doesn't stop until she can barely even feel her fingers anymore, her knuckles red.

The determination she felt before is slowly slipping away, the remaining adrenalin in her veins only fueling her frustration, her anger. Frustration at herself, for thinking, _expecting, _this would work out, that he would be there and she could convince him to take her back. Of all the scenarios that ran through her mind on her way here, this was not one of them.

She runs a hand through her hair, lets out a breath as she lets her body sag back against the solid material of the door, flinches a little when it touches her bruised skin.

_Fuck._

Closing her eyes, she breathes, tries to focus on her next step instead of the disappointment of him not being here. Because it's just a minor setback, she tells herself. It doesn't mean she won't be able to get another chance.

Once she's a bit more calm, her thoughts more organized, she pulls out her phone and hits speed-dial. It's a long shot, especially since he didn't pick up the phone when she called him before either, but she has to try. When it goes straight to voicemail, she hangs up with a sigh.

Okay, next plan?

Suddenly something pops into her mind.

The doorman. He tried to say something before, but she'd stormed past him, went up the stairs without paying much attention to anything other than what she was about to do. But, in hindsight, it might've been better if she hadn't been so preoccupied and had stopped to listen. Maybe he was trying to tell her Castle was out.

_Maybe he also knows where Castle is._

Despite trying not to get her hopes up, she feels a little more at ease, more comfortable now that she has –

A lead?

She shakes her head. Apparently, she still _thinks _like a detective, but she guesses that just comes with the years of work.

She hits the elevator button, pleased with – no matter how you put it – the fact that, yes, she does have a lead. And maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to see him after all.

* * *

Just as he puts his bag on the floor near the passenger seat, a familiar ringtone plays, and he gets his phone out of his pocket. He glances at Beckett's picture, hesitates, but then reminds himself of the day before and his jaw sets before he hits 'ignore call'. He meant it when he said he was done. And talking to her would only make this harder, for him, anyway.

Still holding his phone in hand, he switches it off, and then puts it in his bag. He doesn't need the distraction, or her calling him. His voicemail can handle it for now.

He buckles his seatbelt, turns the key in the ignition and slowly drives backwards, turns so he can drive straight ahead, into a side street of the busy New York traffic. Before he exits the parking garage, though, he sees the rain still pouring down, and he presses another button to bring the top back up.

Though he wouldn't mind some rain, there's no need to get the interior of his car soaked, too.

The city is thrumming, alive with people at this time of the evening even despite the weather. It takes a long while to finally get through traffic, but eventually he's driving on a highway heading west, leaving the city behind him, the lights of the skyline still reflecting in his rearview mirror.

The number of cars on the road slowly lessen the further he drives, and he picks up some speed once it does, loving the way the engine growls, the car speeding smoothly, effortlessly.

Oh, yes – this is why he got this car.

Well, that, and – at the time – he was convinced it would be a chick magnet. Which, admittedly, worked out for him quite some times. Though he also might've gotten it because of the sudden spike in the sales of his books after a positive review in the New York Times. All those millions could be… overwhelming. Despite his mother's best efforts of telling him not to let it get to his head, he did, a little. Okay, maybe more than a little, but still.

He _had _always wanted to own a Ferrari…

Suddenly he's pulled from his thoughts by a flash of light in his rearview mirror, and, as he looks, he realizes it's the flashing lights from a police cruiser that pulled up behind him.

His gaze quickly lowers to his speedometer and – _crap_, he hadn't realized he had been going this fast. One disadvantage of Ferraris; they speed up so effortlessly you hardly notice it when you're driving _way _too fast, like he is now.

The car is signaling for him to pull over, and he notices a traffic sign indicating there's a gas station up ahead, so he assumes they'll want him to stop there.

The whole cop car doesn't faze him that much at first, but then, when he looks in his rearview mirror again, notices the large NYPD logo, he can't help but think of –

His throat feels a little dry, and he swallows, then shakes his head at himself.

_Stupid_, Rick.

Though he guesses the way his heart is suddenly beating a little faster in his chest, the way it skipped a beat at the thought of _her, _is even more pathetic. God, he wishes he could just be _out _of love with her already. Then again, that thought also sends a little pang of discomfort to his stomach, because apparently he doesn't like the idea of losing that – whatever it is they are – already.

He mentally growls at himself. _Love_. A terrible thing.

He nearly lets out a bitter laugh. Well, all of this would surely inspire some _fantastic _Nikki and Rook story lines. Right. His readers probably wouldn't quite appreciate what he's currently thinking about for his thinking nearly makes him miss the exit to the gas station, and he pulls over at the last moment, forgets to indicate where he's going. Oh, they really must be thinking he's a terrible drive by now, right?

Not much later he comes to a stop, and he waits for the cops to approach him. He hears doors slam shut behind him, and then a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, comes up to his window, notepad in hand, an a slightly older cop stands a little behind him, watching Castle like a hawk, his gaze definitely not amused.

"License and registration please." The man says curtly, and the look on his face suggests he isn't up for any easy conversation either.

"Of course." He replies, tries to give him a gentle smile. Honestly, he just wishes he could be driving on already. Castle reaches for the papers, grabs his bag to get his wallet out and –

He frowns, opens the zipper further so he can see the contents a little better. He could've sworn he took his wallet and put it on top in his bag. He took it out of his pocket, put it down on – oh.

The kitchen counter. Of course. Next to the note he left Alexis.

So that means he has no money for an hotel later, either. Oh, this night is just getting better and better, isn't it?

When he turns back to the police officer to hand him his registration papers, he feels himself getting a little more frustrated, more edgy. In turn, the cop seems more annoyed, too, when he finds out Castle doesn't have a driver's license with him and frowns, turns around to ask his colleague to run his name and license plate.

Then he turns his attention back to Castle and holds up a breath analyzer. "Can you breathe into this for me, sir?"

The whole 'sir' thing makes him feel both old and reminds him of Gates, and at the thought of Gates he is thinking of a certain detective and – _damn_, he really needs to stop this.

He sighs when the cop gives him a look and taps his foot impatiently.

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Apparently, she'd _just _missed him.

He had left a couple of minutes before she arrived, overnight bag in hand, but that was all the doorman could tell her. She suspected he knew more, but then again, that might just be her being paranoid.

Still, she couldn't quite put a finger on the fact that he left, or more importantly, _where _he'd planned on staying the night.

Not –

She shakes her head. He wouldn't. He wouldn't just go right back to that blonde bimbo he'd been dating, or doing, or whatever the hell they were. She doesn't need to know.

Though she actually isn't all that sure that he wouldn't, and that thought makes her feel more nauseated then when she found out he wasn't at his loft like she hoped he'd be.

Still, no reason to jump to conclusions, she chides herself, though she knows it's pointless, since she obviously already did.

The only place she could think of running into him, is the Old Haunt.

She believes there's even a couch in his modest office, so he could have planned on crashing there after the bar closed.

Yes, actually, that sounds like a very logical explanation. No blonde bimbos necessary.

She relaxes a little, and is walking to the door when she hears footsteps behind her. Turning around, she notices his doorman – Antonio, if she's correct – walking towards her.

"Miss." He calls, "Do you want me to call a cab for you?"

She wants to refuse, but another glance to the storm raging outside makes her think twice. Though her walk over here might have felt like refreshing at the time, she doesn't feel quite so energized right now, and standing out in the rain to hail a cab doesn't sound appealing at all. So she offers him a smile. "That would be great, thanks." She answers.

As he goes off to make the call, she takes a seat in the lobby, stares out the front windows as she thinks through her new course of action. She wants him to be at the Old Haunt, but she also needs him to be sober when she tells him this – when she tells him how she feels, when she offers him an apology, lots of apologies, if necessary.

Then again, he might not even _be _there. She sighs.

Otherwise, she thinks, she could use a drink herself, too.

She'll just have to see when she gets there.

* * *

Castle grits his teeth, pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits on the bench.

Not that it's any use to get more upset. It's all his own damn fault, anyway. Though, honestly, those cops could use some lightening up. He had been _joking _for god sakes. Sure, the mutual frustration turned into him muttering some things under his breath that maybe he shouldn't have, and then maybe repeating them a little louder wasn't the best idea, but _arresting _him, really?

He really wished the state police would have taken a night off or that they had taken a different road - that they hadn't noticed him.

Because then he wouldn't currently be in a holding cell, his Ferrari in an impound lot, with no way to pay bail without his wallet.

The cop who's working the night shift seems to be rather grumpy, too. _Great._

At least he gets one phone call, though he hasn't quite figured out who to call yet. There's no way he's going to take Alexis away from her celebration, and his mother hardly ever picks up her phone when she's out. Two options down. Calling his mother or daughter wasn't even his first thought, though.

He sighs, doesn't quite like where this is going.

Then the cop is at his door, gruffly telling him he can make his call now.

As he walks to the phone, his mind races, trying to work out who he is going to call. Because if that person wouldn't pick up, he'll be spending the night here, and, honestly, the bench here is _very _uncomfortable.

He thinks, shuts his eyes for a brief moment before he picks up the phone and dials the number.

After a few seconds, he hears a beep. He breathes. Another beep, and, a moment later another one. Still, no one is picking up the phone. _Come on, _he mentally urges, _pick up. _When after a few more rings there's still no answer, he sighs, almost giving up hope. Then, suddenly, he hears a click, and a familiar voice answers the phone.

* * *

_A/N: Eh, so should I be hiding yet for keeping Castle away from Beckett? Or can I safely emerge and get you another chapter sometime soon?  
I personally _really _liked how a certain scene on the show turned out, but I thought this could be an interesting journey for them too, hence this story. Don't worry, though, I am a big fan of them together, so they'll see each other soon enough…_

_Let me know what you think?_

_P.S. Huge thanks to Andy for being incredibly helpful with this and answering all my questions. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I know, I took way too long with this update, and I'm sorry. Blame both my procrastination and Paris, the latter for being beautiful and distracting and giving me not much time to write with all the things to see._

* * *

**Lost Time  
**- Chapter Two -

* * *

It's late, far too late when the sound of a ringtone echoes through the bedroom.

He stirs, blinks open an eye and groans at the lit up display of his phone, wishing for it to be off. He reaches for the phone, knowing it might be a case and – since he's the only detective left on his team at the moment – they might need him at the crime scene.

When he looks at the display, he frowns at the unknown number. Not the precinct, then.

Glancing over at Jenny – _his wife, _he likes to mentally add, since it still sounds surreal and wonderful at the same time – he carefully gets up, makes sure not to wake her, and exits the bedroom to answer the phone.

"Kevin Ryan." He says, after he hits the call button.

A surprised breath on the other end of the line, and then, "Ryan, thank god you're up, I –"

"_Castle?_" He interrupts, surprised. He hadn't been expecting to hear from him, or, well, anyone related to the precinct for that matter.

"Yeah." He hears Castle clear his throat. "Listen, I – I don't have long, and I know it's late, but could you _please _help me out?"

After the day he's had, Ryan is _slightly _tempted to say no but – it's good to hear from a friend, somewhat of a relief, really. To know that at least not everyone is mad at him. "What is it, Castle?"

"I'm at a police station." Castle says, is quiet for a beat, then adds, "State police, I was going for a drive and they caught me speeding."

Ryan frowns. "So why are you at the station?" Speeding shouldn't get him arrested.

"I might've gotten a little – _irritable_. Said some things I shouldn't have." Castle admits, grudgingly. "But mostly it was just… miscommunication, really."

Right. He sighs again, scratches the back of his neck. "So what do I have to do with this?"

"I – I forgot my wallet, can't pay bail. And my car is at the impound lot, so I kind of… need a ride, too."

Oh, no. He glances at the clock, sees it's only three AM and lets out a soft groan. It's not that he doesn't want to help out, but he could really use some extra sleep. Today – well. It could've been better. Though – no, no. He grits his teeth when a thought enters his mind, dismisses it quickly. Things wouldn't have been different if Castle _had _picked up the phone when he'd called. He sighs. Getting Gates involved was still the only way to have saved Beckett's life, probably. Castle wouldn't have had some brilliant plan either.

He realizes he hasn't replied yet, when Castle speaks again. "Listen, Ryan, I _know _this would be a huge favor and I'd owe you big time, but can you help me out? I kind of want to not be in jail when my daughter comes home from her graduation party."

He already knows what his decision will be – he won't just leave a friend hanging (his mentally winces at the word choice when it brings back images of Beckett hanging on that ledge – but he still takes a second to think, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger before a takes a breath and replies, "Okay, Castle, what station are you at?"

He listens while looking for a pen and piece of paper, then writes the address down, before he hears a distant voice on the other end of the line telling Castle to wrap up his phone call. With a last grateful "thanks again" from the writer, the line goes silent.

Right. There goes his night of sleep.

Carefully, he walks back into the bedroom, gets a note from his nightstand and quickly scribbles something down for Jenny. He leaves the note on the dresser, knowing she'll find it there. Then he looks at his wife once more, leans in and gently places a kiss on her forehead.

With one last longing glance to the empty spot in the bed right next to her, he makes his way to his side of the bed, grabs a shirt and pants and starts getting dressed.

Oh, Castle really does owe him big time, he thinks as he heads for the door.

* * *

The Old Haunt it busier than it usually is, this time of night.

It might be because more people go in to get shelter from the rain, and end up sticking around for a drink or two, enjoying the nice ambiance of the place. Either way, when Beckett comes in, looks around the crowded bar, it's hard to spot him, hard to tell if he's there or not with all the people around.

The thought that he might be in the same room with her right now sends a little jolt of both excitement and anxiety through her system. Despite all her determination – she is _absolutely _sure about her decision, won't let herself doubt it, not this time – she's still worried about how he'll react when she finally comes face to face with him.

Shaking her head, she tries to clear her mind of the images of him, the tears in his eyes when he was _begging _-

She grits her teeth. No, she chides herself, don't start thinking like this.

Instead, she walks over to the bar, sits down on a stool as the bartender is coming over. He's a regular, she recognizes him from the nights they've gone here, together, their little precinct family. The thought nearly makes her wince with the already aching loss, but she focuses on the man instead, shoots him a smile as he gives her a look of recognition.

"Hey…" She trails off, his name on the tip of her tongue, but she still can't quite remember. "Do you know if Castle is in?" She asks instead, and she feels her blood rushing – with what she isn't sure – as his name leaves her lips.

He shakes his head and her stomach drops. "I haven't seen him today."

Oh. "Oh." She repeats her thought out loud, something twisting inside her, her heart, maybe. The bubble of hope she had bursting. _Crap. _

Sensing her mood, the bartender – _Jamie, _she suddenly remembers, remembers how fitting she thought it was that someone with Rook's nickname would work at Castle's bar – asks her if she maybe wants a drink.

She does. And she's tempted to order tequila, but page 105 kind of ruined drinking that alone for her. Not _ruined_, per se, but she doesn't need even more reason to be thinking of him. Thinking of him in _that _way. Not when she's still unsure if she'll even have a shot at being with him.

She swallows hard at the thought.

"I'll have a vodka." She then replies to Jamie, because _yes_, that sounds really good right now.

Soon he offers her the drink, then someone else is demanding his attention and with a sympathetic smile he's off.

Honestly, she hates the fact that she even looks like she _needs _the sympathy. She takes a large sip of the drink, too big a sip, maybe, feels the liquid burn in her throat, the lightness in her head making her wonder when the last time was she ate. She frowns.

She needs to take a moment to think.

Maybe someplace quiet. She glances around the bar, and lets her eye fall on the door to Castle's office. Perfect.

Getting up, she walks down the bar, stops when she's facing Jamie. She knows he should have the keys. "Hey," She says, "I was just wondering if you could unlock Castle's office for me."

She sees him hesitate, looking a little skeptical, so she continues, "He just texted me he'd be here later, but it might be a while, so I'd like to wait someplace a little more… quiet." Okay – obviously a lie, but she thinks she sounds convincing enough.

His face relaxes at that. "Yes, sure." After quickly scanning the bar to make sure it isn't too busy at the moment, he steps out from behind the bar and walks over to the office, and Beckett follows his lead.

Jamie fumbles with some keys, finds the right one and unlocks the door, opens it for her. "Thanks." She says, before she enters the room.

"No problem." He says with a smile and then he gently closes the door behind her and leaves, the door drowning out some of the sounds from the bar.

It's not quite silent yet, but quieter, at least. She can hear her own thoughts a little bit more clearly like this, though that doesn't necessarily has to be a good thing. The office isn't very big, smaller than his study at the loft, but there's still a desk with a desk chair, and a modest couch on the opposite side against the wall.

She walks over to the couch and sits down, being careful not to spill her drink.

It isn't until that moment that she actually feels the exhaustion in her limbs, her legs suddenly feeling a lot heavier than they did before, when she was making her way to his loft. She crosses her legs and winces at the tightness of her muscles. In hindsight, taking a cab to his place might've been a better idea, but in the moment she had been too restless, the adrenalin carrying her forward effortlessly, her muscles not even daring to complain.

Now none of that determination fueled energy is left, just disappointment.

She gets her phone out and checks it for any texts or missed calls – again. There are none. After taking another sip of her drink, she sets it down on the small table next to her and let herself sink into the couch further.

This night has been absolutely exhausting. Hell, the entire day had been. But other than her realization about Castle, she hasn't exactly come far. She lets out a breath closes her eyes for a moment.

A longer moment.

_Has he put such a comfortable couch here on purpose? _Her eyes are still closed as she turns her head and snuggles a bit closer against the pillow.

Even though it probably isn't true – she doesn't think he actually uses this office so often – she thinks she can smell a hint of his cologne. Subconsciously, she inhales the familiar, comforting scent, a slow, content smile blooming on her face.

She doesn't want to think about the fact that, maybe, soon, the same smell might not be as comforting to her anymore when it will only remind her of how things have ended between them.

_Things haven't ended yet, _she reminds herself.

She opens her eyes slightly, glancing around the office like she's trying to make sure Castle hasn't suddenly appeared. She sighs before she lets her eyes close again.

With thoughts of Castle and the events of that day running through her mind, she slowly drifts to sleep on his couch.

* * *

_A/N: Did I mention yet how awesome you guys all are with all the reviews and tons of alerts? No? Okay, well, you are, and it was incredibly nice to wake up to all those emails. Also, speaking of awesome, Emily, thanks for looking parts of this over and congratulations (on being a genius). :)_

_Anyway, thoughts?  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Lost Time  
**- Chapter Three -

* * *

Castle is just starting to admit defeat, deciding he might as well try to make himself comfortable on the hard, unappealing bench to get some rest, when the sound of footsteps echo through the hallway.

He sits up when he hears the sound getting closer, and soon the rather grumpy cop from before is at the cell door, reaching for one of his keys before putting it in the lock and opening the door. "Mr. Castle, your bail is paid, you are free to go now." The man says curtly.

Castle springs to his feet, relieved he doesn't have to stay any longer – not only is the bench uncomfortable, the guy two cells down also _snores _like crazy.

The cop walks with him, and after Castle gets his stuff back from where they'd kept it in a plastic evidence bags – he has an odd déjà-vu to the last time he'd been bailed out, grimaces when he's reminded that Beckett was the one to arrest him that time – he is off.

He'll have to get his car from the impound lot the next day, probably, but he can worry about that later. (Even if the thought of his Ferrari being handled by some random guy does make him cringe a little.)

When he's walking towards the entrance of the building, he sees Ryan getting up from one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area as soon as he notices Castle.

Suddenly he realizes he hasn't really given it much thought as to what kind of explanation he has for what happened. He's not even sure himself what did; he hasn't been stupid enough to get cross with cops (the ones he knows personally not counting) since before he met Beckett. This is… old him, not the man he is nowadays. Though, he's still sticking to the fact that it was still a bit of a misunderstanding this time. Lack of a sense of humor, mostly.

To his surprise – and relief – Ryan just greets him and asks if he's got all his stuff before they head to his car, sticking to small talk instead of addressing anything else.

Once they're in the car, Castle decides to turn on his phone to check if Alexis has called him. He's not expecting it – she should still be celebrating by now – but better save that sorry. He wouldn't forgive himself if she needed him and he wasn't there.

After unlocking his phone, he sees the missed calls. None from Alexis, though. No, they're all from the same person, the one he'd rather not be thinking about or reminded of.

For some reason his eyes stay glued to the screen though, more specifically, to her name on his screen and he sighs, not noticing Ryan glancing in his direction and taking a quick peek at his screen too. Then he locks his phone and puts it away, trying to ignore the pull of wanting to call her, trying to overcome the need to hear what she has to say. It can't be enough, not anymore.

They drive off in silence, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts, but then, after a while, Ryan asks, carefully, "Castle? What happened between you and Beckett?"

_Ow. _He takes a sharp breath of air and stills. Even though he knew it shouldn't be surprising, the question is still unsuspected. "I –" The words get stuck in his throat, and he swallows.

Thinking about what happened – visualizing the way she rejected him – it _hurts. _And he isn't too sure he can share that moment in her apartment with anyone quite yet, not when the wounds it caused him are still so fresh.

Fresh and deep and aching and _ugh – _he needs to get a hold of himself.

It takes Ryan subtly clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably to make him realize he's not alone in the car. "Hey, sorry," the detective says, "you don't have to talk about it, I was just wondering, since –" he slowly backpedals and trails off mid-sentence, hesitating, as if not wanting to overstep his bounds.

It gets Castle's attention, though, and he wills his previous thoughts to the back of his mind – at least tries to – to turn his attention to his friend. "Since…?" He questions, urging Ryan to finish his thought, even though he isn't sure he'll like what he'll hear.

The nudge seems to give him enough courage to continue, though his words are still careful. "Since you and Beckett seemed to be getting…" he pauses, searching for the right word, "Closer. Just, like you were going somewhere." The detective shrugs softly.

It's the most sincere he thinks he ever heard Ryan talk about Beckett and him. Of course, he and Esposito are all for teasing them both, joking about the obvious (there's really no reason for denial) sexual tension, but – it hasn't often gone further than teasing.

To hear that the progression of his relationship with Beckett hasn't gone unnoticed by Ryan is… well, new. And both oddly comforting – it hadn't just been happening in his mind – and painful with the reminder of what they could've been.

And then, somehow, he starts talking. "We had a fight." He says, takes a breath after the admission. Slowly. He can do this. He wants to open up to someone about this. "She wanted to hunt down her shooter and I tried to make it clear how dangerous that would be." He's not sure he should share that he's been in contact with someone who made it his duty to keep her in line, so he focuses on a different aspect. "She's been shot before and I don't think he'd hesitate to do it again. I tried to make her see that her life is more important than a case, even this one, but she wouldn't listen. I made her choose." He shrugs, though it's hardly anything to shrug about. "She chose the case." He says, is surprised at how breathlessly the words leave his lips. "So I walked away, I told her I was done."

Even now, he's not sure how he managed to do it, but he did. "I _am_done." He adds, unsure whether it's for his own benefit or Ryan's.

Glancing to his left, he sees the detective clutching the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but obviously trying to let the words sink in. "I'm sorry." He says, when his eyes leave the road for a second to look at Castle.

"Thanks." It's not much, but the fact that he's shared this with someone actually offers him some relief.

Ryan is frowning now, he notices.

"Castle – I – I don't want to overstep or anything, and I'm not sure if it's my place, but…" The lines in his face deepen before he speaks the three words that make Castle's mind spin. "Beckett resigned yesterday."

* * *

At first she doesn't notice the low throat clearing; the man standing next to the couch shifting uncomfortably. It takes a gentle prod of his hand to her shoulder to make her slowly emerge from her slumber, and she blinks a coupe of times, trying to figure out where she is.

Then she's staring into the face of a rather attractive young – wait, what?

Her mind is trying to catch up with her as she quickly sits up, _too fast, dammit, _feeling the panic rise in her throat – oh _god, _what did she _do –_ before she remembers, realizing that she is still on the couch in Castle's office in the Old Haunt and Jamie is eying her warily. Good, she breathes. At least she didn't do anything too stupid.

She hears him clears his throat again, before he speaks. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She blinks. He is looking at her still, expectantly.

"Mr. Castle isn't here yet and I need to close up." He explains, and when she realizes it looks like Castle stood her up or forgot about her, her cheeks flush.

Right. Well, crap.

"Yes, of course." She pushes the fogginess from her mind, tries to think a little more clearly as she gets up.

Jamie gives a small, thankful smile – she wonders if he's ever had to throw someone out that wasn't quite as willing as she is – and she glances around to see if she hasn't forgotten anything. Establishing that she hasn't, she steps outside, watches as Jamie locks the door behind her before she gives him a quick goodnight and heads for the street to catch a cab.

She doesn't even bother coming up with some excuse for Castle not being there, like he was supposed to be according to the story she told him earlier. She doesn't have the energy.

When she manages to flag down a cab, she gives the driver her address despite the part of her that really wants her to go back to Castle's place and wait on his doorstep. She would, if there weren't the possibility of Alexis or Martha finding her there instead of him. She's more than willing to throw her dignity out the window for him, but isn't quite ready for his family to see her this desperate.

She sighs as she leans back in the car seat. Back to her apartment without him it is, then.

* * *

Exhausted, she enters her apartment building. She gladly waits for the elevator instead of taking the stairs like she usually does – her floor isn't _that _high, she always tells herself – and after the elevator arrives, she gets in, hitting the button to her floor before she lets herself lean heavily against the railing inside the small space as it takes her up.

She's had too much disappointment for one day, all of it weighing her down, the images of hanging off that railing coming to surface too, now that the adrenalin has worn off completely.

A ding announces her arrival before the doors slid open; she steps out onto her floor and walks to her apartment door. Just as she's getting her keys from her pocket, a sudden loud, shrill sound makes her stomach drop.

As she's holding her keys in one hand, she quickly grabs her phone, trying not to get her hopes up about who is calling, but she isn't kidding anyone. When the caller ID tells her it's _him_, her heart kicks into an overdrive, and she's trying not to sound desperately breathless when she picks up.

"Castle." She says, and despite her efforts it comes out on a relieved, hopeful breath. "Hey."

For a moment it's silent on the other end of the line, as if he's not sure what he should say, but then she hears him take a breath. "You – you called me?"

"Oh, yes." She says just as she finds the right key and turns it in her lock. "I – Castle," She starts, because there's so _much _she wants to tell him, so much she wants to share, but she can't, not over the phone, not like this. "I'm sorry." She says then. "I'm so sorry, I –" She takes a breath and takes the moment to step into her apartment, needing more privacy for this, even though she doubts the old lady from next door would care much about anything happening in her private life.

"I made the wrong decision yesterday." She admits softly, the door falling into its lock behind her as she leans up against it. "I was wrong, Castle, and I –" She stops, freezes when she sees it.

There's someone, a silhouette, at the other side of the room, standing in front of her window. She instantly reaches for her gun, then remembers she doesn't have one, not anymore. Her heart races, blind panic preventing her from speaking, clogging up her throat.

The man – she recognized his stance, didn't want to be right – turns around, leaning casually against the window as he comes to face her, a sickening grin on adorning his features. Maddox.

"Kate?" She hears his voice come from her phone's speaker faintly, her hand lowered to her hip, but she can't reply, can't speak, no matter how desperately she's trying to form words, because it's _him, _and how the _hell_did he even get in here?

"You're not going to answer him, _Kate?_" Maddox's voice pierces through the room as he slowly takes a step forward, her name condescending coming from his lips, and she tries to steel herself from what's coming, tries not to show him how much her hands are shaking as she stares at the sniper, as he watches her with some amusement, like he finds her panic freaking _entertaining. _

Castle apparently heard the voice too, because now his voice comes louder, with an edge of concern, "Kate, what is going on? Kate?"

And finally, _finally, _she croaks, her throat dry, too dry, "Castle."

Maddox is still observing her, and she notices now how his right hand, the one he was just holding behind his back, is loosely clutched around a gun. The sight makes her stomach turn, the images of her getting shot, the ones that have kept her up too many nights, flashing before her eyes. She can't do this.

She manages to speak two more words, hopes they're clear enough for him to hear. "Get help." Her phone is too heavy in her hand, and after she adds one more desperate 'please', its slipping from her fingers, the device clattering to the floor just as she hears the click of a gun.

* * *

_A/N: Honestly, I wasn't expecting this to go_ there_, but, well, it did. Whenever I have something planned my story tends to have different ideas. So stubborn.  
__Anyway, I'd like to thank _lv2bnsb1 _for the review you left, because it made me think of different directions to go with this story and inspired me to write, and Emily for the encouragement to post. :) (And of course everyone else who alerted this or reviewed, I really appreciate it and always love hearing your thoughts or just knowing you're reading.)_

_Oh, and I know, that ending was kind of evil. Sorry. (Tries to hide evil laugh. *cough*)  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: You can stop hanging from those cliffs now, the next chapter is here… (Which took longer to post than intended, but the fact that it's extra long might make up for it?)  
__This starts a little earlier than the previous chapter ends, but I think it should be clear enough when everything happens._

* * *

**Lost Time  
**- Chapter Four -

* * *

When Castle comes home to his loft, his mind is still spinning from the conversation he'd just had with Ryan. At least, what he'd managed to pick up from it after Ryan had told him about Beckett's resignation.

His thoughts had been a chorus of '_she resigned, she resigned, she resigned' _after he'd found out, and as much as he really shouldn't run right back to her, he was already running in his mind, his imagination providing him with all too many fairytale-like endings.

It was because of him that she resigned. Had to be. The pessimistic side of him, or realistic, since those had been almost the same thing lately, tried to get the idea out of his head, tried to tell him that she was still trouble and he should be careful to not jump into anything. After all, the wounds she'd caused him wouldn't disappear overnight either, and – undoubtedly – there will be scars left behind.

Just because she doesn't have a badge anymore doesn't mean she's any less of a detective. If he'd quit writing he'd still think like a writer too, it's just part of who he is. Just because she turned in her badge doesn't mean she can let everything go yet.

He pads over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water to quench his thirst.

Her mom's case still isn't solved. There are still people out there, dangerous people, who might want Kate dead. As if it might start ringing if he looks at it, he gets his phone out, wondering if whomever it was that's been keeping her safe will contact him again. After all, he hadn't been able to stop her from crossing a line she had to stay away from.

He swallows hard when he remembers Ryan's words, his description of how she had been holding on to that ledge.

It's not really something he wants to dwell on. He puts down his glass and picks up his phone again, holding it as he makes his way to his study.

The missed calls are all still there, unanswered, and he wonders what she was going to say to him. Wonders if there's still a chance – his thumb hovers over the screen, right above her name. Running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, he tries to prepare himself. Hearing her voice - well, he just needs to keep his resolve and keep his distance at least until he knows more, he needs to not let himself get too affected by her.

Next his thumb lowers and he's calling her, putting his phone to his ear just as he can hear the first beep playing through the receiver.

There's another one, and then the sounds is replaced with her hopeful, slightly breathless voice and damn it if it doesn't make him want to throw all his resolutions of keeping his distance right out the window, punching a hole in his apparently not-so steady resolve.

"You – you called me?" he finally says, trying to recover, gain back his ground; keep the upper hand in this. He has to.

She talks then, rushing out apologies, telling him she made the wrong decision, and the way she's saying it, so desperately, like she's begging him, begging for another chance, it makes whatever was left of his resolve crumble to a pathetic pile on the floor.

They'll have things to discuss and talk through, sure, but hell, she _resigned_ and she's apologizing, and it's more than he could've possibly dreamed of earlier.

She suddenly stops talking mid-sentence, and at first he thinks it's because she's trying to find the right words, searching for them, like even he is having trouble with by now, because how many ways of saying 'get over here right now' are there? But then he hears some shuffling, distant, but audible nonetheless. "Kate?" he tries.

That's when he hears the voice; low, dangerous, making the hairs in his neck stand up straight. No. This can't be right. When he still doesn't hear her talk, he tries again, louder, hoping his gut-feeling is wrong and it was just a neighbor who stopped by. "Kate, what is going on? Kate?"

Finally she replies, but the way she croaks out his name is far from comforting.

"Get help." She says, "please"

He hears a loud sound and then a beep, and he lowers his phone, stares in disbelief at the ended phone call as his heartbeat thuds loudly in his ears.

This is bad. No, worse than bad.

Just because she decided to let go of the case doesn't mean the case will let go of her.

It only takes him seconds to grab his coat and be at the door, already calling down to have the doorman hail him a cab as the door falls shut in his wake. He isn't even sure what is going on over at her apartment, isn't sure if it's as bad - or terrifying – as it sounded like, but he isn't going to take any chances. As soon as he's called down for a cab he dials 911 in a rush, tells them as much as he knows and hopes, _wishes, _it won't be too late.

The thought makes him swallow hard, as he waits impatiently for his cab to arrive. It's all going slow, too slow, because he needs to be there _now, _had to be there already and the fear of not knowing what is going on is not helping, much less his overactive imagination that keeps showing him the most terrible scenarios.

It's not going to be like that. He grits his teeth, and then finally his cab arrives. He doesn't even count how much cash he hands over, but it seems to make his urgency get through to the driver, at least.

They rush of into the streets of New York City, and Castle tries Beckett's number, though he doubts she'll pick up.

In the distance he hears sirens, and he hopes they're on their way to her apartment, no, that they've already gotten there and are rushing that son-of-a-bitch to the station. He's not sure who it was in Kate's apartment, but he can't help thinking about what Ryan told him about Beckett's run-in with her sniper.

_Maybe he came back to finish the job, _his mind provides him with the sick thought, which would be a lot less bad if there weren't the actual possibility that it's true.

When they get to her building, there's already a squad car outside, to his relief. Still, he'd be more relieved to see her outside, safe.

He gets out the car and jogs to the entrance of the building, and then he's running up the stairs to what he knows is her floor.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

Something isn't right.

Her door is open, he sees when he approaches it, and at that moment he wishes that in his hurry he would've thought to bring that gun he owns, feeling quite helpless now that he's got nothing to defend himself with if necessary.

He finally hears something, then, a stumble and then, moments later, a gunshot.

Without thinking twice, he runs into her apartment.

* * *

_Earlier…_

The agonizing click draws her eyes to his gun, and she's only noticing now that he just took the safety off.

The smirk on his face when she meets his eyes again makes her want to hurl something at him. _Cocky, arrogant bastard_. Her fists clench at her side, but she knows it's all useless. She's unarmed, he isn't. If she'd known he hadn't even bothered taking the safety off his gun until now, she could've –

No. She mentally shakes her head at herself while she glances around the room, hoping to magically see a way out. She couldn't have known, and from her experience on the roof she knows he can overpower her, knows that in a matter of seconds he could have the loaded gun pointed at her anyway.

"What do you want?" she says, her voice regaining some of its strength and authority.

"Oh," he says flatly, "I think you know already."

_What? _That he wants her dead? It's the only thing she can think of, but it isn't exactly reassuring. "Why haven't you shot me already, then?" she says, mentally wincing at her own boldness. She shouldn't be playing with fire when it has the potential of ending her life.

He takes a step closer, looking like a predator eying his prey. "I won't have a reason to unless you don't give me what I want."

Even though inside she's still a mess, the absolute fear heightening her senses, she gets her mask back in place, takes a step toward him as well, not a crack visible in her tough exterior. "What _do_ you want?"

"I don't have time to play games, detective. Or, wait, it isn't detective anymore, is it?" He slightly cocks his head as he poses the question, looking almost triumphant at his knowledge.

_How does he even…_ her thought is cut off by the familiar sound of nearing sirens, and for the first time since she saw Maddox at her window, it's almost as if she can see some concern behind his all too calm façade. She hopes it's the result of Castle getting help and the vehicle the sirens belong to is on its way over there, but she can't be too sure. The sound is almost always present in the city.

"The files," he says, growing impatient. "Tell me where they are."

She does show her confusion this time, her eyebrows knitting together. "_What _files?"

She sees something at his jaw twitch, and when he looks at her again she sees his annoyance grow. "Don't be stupid," he hisses, "your mom's files, her notes, where are they?"

"I don't _know_," she growls at him, starting to get equally as frustrated, because she hasn't even the slightest clue what the _hell _he's talking about.

His fingers clutch around her arms harshly after he takes one more step forward, his gun almost poking her abdomen. "Then I guess you'll just have to come with me, so I can help refresh your memory," he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous.

Out the corner of her eye she catches the faint reflection of red and blue lights, just at the edge of her window, right before it stops. That's when she knows that the police _is _at her building, and with Maddox' back to the window, she's pretty sure he didn't catch it.

Stall. She needs to stall to keep him here, preferably take his gun away, too, because she can't be sure what he'll do once he's cornered.

In her mind she tries to calculate how long it would take for the officers to get up here. They would've gotten out the car once they turned off the lights, seconds ago, so it would only take mere minutes for them to get to her door now.

Maddox has turned her around now, still gripping her arm as his gun is pressed against her back, and he forces her to move, but not in the direction of her door. He's moving in the opposite direction, to the window, and she realizes he wants to take her down the fire escape.

One too slow step from her part and he's growling an order for her to move faster in her ear, as his grip on her arm tightens to the point that she'll surely have a bruise.

She isn't too sure, but she thinks she can faintly hear footsteps in the distance, and she wrecks her brain as she glances around again, looking for a way out. Her mind flashed back to the precinct a long time ago, with Castle, and she mentally groans at herself for even considering doing what she's about to.

There's a knock on the door, momentarily distracting Maddox as they mere feet from the window that leads to the fire escape, and she takes her chance, sees her opportunity, and knocks her head back with full force, the back of her head connecting to his face with a painful blow.

He stumbles just as there's another knock, louder this time, and she calls out for help as her hand latches on to Maddox' gun, moving her wrist so that it's pointing away from her.

That's when it all happens at once.

One of the cops kicks her door open just as Maddox puts his knee firmly at her back, kicking it in such a way that she sinks to her knees on the floor, her grip on the gun loosening before it's taken from her hand completely and the cold steel is pressing against her neck.

"Freeze!" one officer calls out as the other joins right behind him with a "hands in the air, now!" their weapons drawn and pointed at Maddox as they enter the room.

She feels him tug at her upper arm, a low, urgent "get up" whispered in her ear as his gun is pressing insistently against her neck. Though her legs are still a little unsteady, she does as he says, swallowing hard to get some moisture to her suddenly dry throat.

"I said don't move," the cop says, but she doubts Maddox is very intimidated by the man.

"Or what?" She hears him say, can almost see the mocking smirk on his face as he speaks. "You'll try to shoot me? I mean, it would be a shame to be responsible for the death of one of New York's finest, wouldn't you say?"

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and she can see the two cops trying to figure out a course of action as Maddox waits, just waits for them to come to terms with whatever he's about to say next.

"I have the feeling that if you'd start shooting at me, my finger might instinctively pull this trigger here," Maddox says calmly, nodding his head to the gun she can feel pressed against her skin, and she sees the two men exchange glances. "Now, here's the deal," he continues, "You're going to stand on the other side of the room as I step onto the fire escape here." After taking a tentative step back already, he finishes, "Once I'm on the fire escape, I'll release miss Beckett here and you can go on doing your jobs."

When neither of the two policemen moves, he takes another step back, already pressed against the window that leads to metal stairs outside. "Look, all you have to do is take a few steps back to the other side of the room and I'll release her," he urges, and when she tries to say something, she's cut off by a yank on her arm and him whispering warning words into her ear.

It seems to alarm the two cops, and the first one who came in, looking slightly older and more experienced than his partner, takes a step forward. "What, so you can get away with her?"

Maddox sighs before spilling it out once more, speaking slowly, as if he's trying to explain it to a child. "You came her to guarantee her safety, so I'm offering to let her go. If you find that I don't, all you have to do is cross the room, and - once we'd be on the fire escape – it can't be too hard to hit me from above, since I can't exactly hold her above my head as a shield, now can I? Taking her would only slow me down. So all I'm asking is to stand back over there." He nods his head to the back corner of her kitchen.

For a moment the two partners seem to have some silent interaction, exchanging looks before they nod softly and both step back into the corner, their weapons still pointed in their direction.

"Good," Maddox says, reaching behind him to slide open the window. "I _will _get those files," he whispers in her ear before he takes a step back, half pulling her with him when he steps onto the fire escape. "So you'd better start remembering soon."

The two officers are keeping their distance, doing as he instructed them to. One second later she's pushed back inside her apartment harshly and Maddox is off as she falls forward on the hard floor.

The cop springs into action, immediately heading for the window. One of them fires a shot, curses, then climbs through the frame to start the chase, but, knowing Maddox probably has a plan, she doubts they'll still be able to catch him.

As she slowly gets up, wincing at what surely will be some painful bruises – she can add those to the ones she already got from her earlier rooftop fight – she is suddenly met with two piercing blue eyes boring into hers, and for a moment all thoughts of Maddox are wiped from her mind.

"Castle," she breathes before he rushes towards her.

* * *

_A/N: Well, almost time for their big reunion, it seems…_

_Also, I believe it says something like 'the author wishes to thank you for your continued support' after you leave a review these days, which I wish you could customize so I could change to something about giving you cookies for all being so awesome with all of your reviews and alerts. I really appreciate it.  
__And a special thanks to the 'Guest' who pointed out that my structure wasn't always right. I went back to fix that (hopefully I got it all), and I'll know to pay more attention to that. Thanks for mentioning it, constructive criticism is always welcome. :)_

_Anyway, thoughts? _


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